That Sand-Beaten Dustball
by MaryTheGizka
Summary: Sequel to Polar Opposites. After an assassination attempt, Darth Vader and Aphra are forced to escape Coruscant and land on a barren, desert world. (Vadaphra AU)
1. Chapter 1

A/N : Here's a sequel to my previous fic ('Polar Opposites'). The characters might get OOC and the plot might not be overly consistent, but here you go. (Edit: I re-read it. It's crap. REALLY.)

Vader's POV

Vader sat in the yacht's cockpit, contemplating the complete and utter mess he was in and giving himself over to profuse mental cursing as he strove to pick the sand out of his finger gears. It appeared the blasted thing had found its way inside the hinges, rubbing unpleasantly against the components and producing a shrill, grinding sound at every. Single. Movement. Had he not known better, he would be wondering how the kriffing darn thing had gotten inside his kriffing darn gloves. But he damn well knew: it was coarse and rough and irritating and it got _everywhere_. Especially when you had the brilliant idea to stay outside repairing the ship in the middle of a sandstorm because you thought the suit would at least keep it out. But no. It didn't. Sand was vicious. And to think that Aphra found it 'fun' to collect it, put it in test tubes and bring it _inside the ship_ for analysis… What a gross thing to do. At first he failed to see the point of such a ridiculous pastime, but now he just told himself that it was always wise to know your 'ennemy'. Be it sand or that sleazy scumbag of a scientist who had driven them into hiding and was now _this close_ to plunging the Empire back into chaos. But then what was new?

Vader sighed, producing a low, raucous sound. He was tired. Tired of Cylo, tired of the Rebels, and tired of that _bloody karking sand_. He dwelled on memories of the night before. Oh yes, he was the 'Chosen One'. The Force's favorite plaything. And well, the Force had a tendency to throw its toys around.

 _It had been but a month since the ceasefire was agreed upon and more thorough negotiations were, slowly but surely, coming to a term. Not that it had been easy. Vader had been 'forced' to yield some ground on the subject of the Imperial Senate, and had enacted its restoration. Its authority would be limited and Vader would have the last word in most matters, so it wouldn't be too much of a hindrance. Still, that didn't stop him from loathing his own weakness and acceptance of compromise. But such was the result of his alliance with the Rebels – no matter how much he wanted to alter the deal – and, therefore, the price to pay for the survival of his loved ones. So he had held countless meetings, listened to pointless complaints and almost fallen asleep in sheer boredom as Rebel dignitaries kept bickering in front of him. And to top it all, Luke being the stubborn child that he was, Vader still had no apprentice. And there he thought war was exhausting._

 _Vader turned to his side as he pondered these thoughts, causing Aphra to stir and sigh in her sleep, yet somehow managing not to wake her up. He wasn't exactly a comfortable makeshift pillow, and that she could sleep so soundly despite the wheezing sound of his respirator truly was a wonder. The same could not be said of him. The simple fact that he was lying in – or rather, on – an actual bed, in an actual room and with Aphra cozily snuggled against him, was both strange and overwhelming. He brushed a lock out of her face and wordlessly gazed upon her. She was beautiful. Even in sleep she carried this keen, playful spark that his dark red lenses could not filter away. It had been a long time since he had felt so contented. And yet… it brought back… well, memories. Memories he treasured and would not, could not let go, but memories tainted by guilt and the oppressive, suffocating fear that it might all happen again. Which was irrational. It wouldn't. He knew that. And yet the thought kept plaguing him, lingering in his mind, droning in his ears like a funeral march. He didn't deserve another chance, and yet he had been given one. Why? Why was the Force being kind to him, when all it had ever done was take? The Force was never, ever kind. And he should be worried that it was pretending to be._

 _Suddenly, an unusual Force-wave surged through the air, warning him of an upcoming danger, and he heard some hushed voices whispering behind the door._

 _"Shhhhh… Prep your blasters and be quiet. Cylo said Vader would kill us given the chance."_

 _And Cylo was right. He nudged Aphra awake and gestured to the blaster she kept next to her, then walked straight to the door and unhooked his lightsaber._

 _"He was correct," Vader stated as the door slowly came open to reveal a short, stocky man in mandalorian armor, followed by a shabby, motley group of pirates and mercenaries. Before any more words could be exchanged, blaster shots were fired and Vader slashed through the squad while Aphra opened fire and swore at the intruders. "It's four in the kriffin' morning! Four. You know that you slimeballs?" Vader heard a wookie roar furiously behind him and turned to see him collapse on the floor. "You're welcome, boss."_

 _He sliced through the last of his assailants and lowered his lightsaber, when a shadowy figure came striding his way from the other end of the dimly lit corridor. Cylo._

 _'Oh well," the figure sighed. "If you want something done you've got to do it yourself." Did Cylo truly think he could threaten him? And what did he want with him? Revenge? As if sensing his thoughts, the scientist spoke again. "It's not personal. As I told you before, I'm not programmed to hold petty grudges. But what do you think will happen when the galaxy finds out the Rebels murdered you in your sleep? You see, here's the thing: peace is bad for progress. Science needs test subjects, and war provides lab rats. Not that you're ignorant of this… "_

 _"Enough!" Vader roared, shooting his hand out to choke the man. But Cylo only laughed at him._

 _"Oh, your tricks won't work on me, Vader. Besides, why bother? You can kill my body, but I cannot be destroyed. You, on the other hand…" with that, Cylo pressed a button on his forearm and tens of spherical drones came flying their way. Vader fended off the shots and Aphra opened fire, but there were too many for them both. Vader ignited his comlink to call for reinforcements._

 _"Call your troops all you want, Vader. They won't help you. Especially with this new toxin I'm testing in the barracks. Quite effective, I must say."_

 _After a minute or so they were both cornered on the balcony. Aphra suddenly grabbed his comlink and pressed the call button while he kept deviating the lasers that seemed to be raining on them._

 _"Triple-Zero! Start the engines and pick us up! "_

 _"Mistress Aphra, are you certain that…"_

 _"Just do it! Now!"_

 _The spherical droids kept coming their way, forcing them to step back until they hit the railing. They couldn't hold much longer. They had only one option…_

 _He abruptly pulled Aphra to him and jumped over the balustrade, plummeting into the streets of Coruscant._

 _"Are you out of your kriffing mind?!" she yelled._

 _He used the Force to slow them down as they came near a sleek chrome surface._

 _"No, I'm not," he said with assurance as the ship scooped them up. They carefully crept towards the side of the yacht and plopped onto the access ramp._

 _"Phew…" Aphra sighed as she reached the cockpit and sat in the pilot's chair. "What do we do now?"_

 _"Cylo said he couldn't be destroyed. That was inaccurate."_

 _Aphra raised an eyebrow and waited for the rest of the answer as she guided the ship out of the atmosphere._

 _"Cylo can be killed, but he has memory banks and a personality map that can load into a new body after his death. If we are to defeat Cylo, we must find this system and destroy it."_

 _"Well," Aphra said, " I've never heard of such a thing being tested on humans before, but I sure as hell know a guy who does that for droids."_

 _"Where is he?"_

 _"Last time I checked he was leaving Coruscant to settle on some dead outpost on Jakku…"_

 _"Then that is our next stop."_

 _Aphra simply nodded and started entering the coordinates._

 _Before the computer was done charting the course, a green laser beam hit the front of the ship. In the bat of an eye, Cylo's drones were flocking their way and giving the chase._

 _"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this…" Aphra said as she dodged another shot. She sent the ship spinning forward and avoided most of the gunfire, then activated the deflector shields and looped the loop backwards to get behind their attackers, firing all she could and inflicting heavy damage on the droid swarm._

 _"Impressive," Vader commented as she took two more drones down with one single shot._

 _"It's called talent, sweetheart."_

 _Really? Although this kind of cocky answer was undoubtedly part of Aphra's roguish charm, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at her choice of words. 'Sweetheart' was not exactly what you'd call a two-meter armored Sith Lord, be it ironically or not. But well, Aphra being Aphra, he guessed he shouldn't be surprised…_

 _The yacht was now ready for the hyperspace jump and Aphra pulled the lever, brushing against a small asteroid in the process._

 _"Talent indeed," Vader replied wryly._

 _"Ah, don't worry… it's just the hyperdrive."_

 _"JUST the hyperdrive?" Vader barked._

 _"Relax. We still have enough power to reach Jakku and then we can make the repairs, alright?"_

 _Keep calm, he told himself. Keep calm. Just keep calm. This ship was all he had kept from Padme, and anyone who so much as scratched the paint would become acquainted with his lightsaber. But Aphra wasn't just 'anyone', and, odd as it may sound, he wouldn't touch a single hair of her head. Thus, he forced himself to calm down and slowly unclenched his fists._

 _"So…" she continued with a disarmingly sheepish half-smile, "if you're okay with that I'm just gonna… go back to sleep, hm?"_

 _She left the cockpit and Vader sat huffily in the pilot's seat, and stayed there until they had landed._

 _And that was how they ended up on that sand-beaten dustball._


	2. Chapter 2

Aphra's POV

Aphra entered the cockpit, a mischievous grin painted on her face at she beheld the sight in front of her.

"Need a manicure?" she asked tauntingly, causing Vader's fists to clench and squeal like scared mice. Just as expected. However, quite unlike his habit, he made an effort to, if not hide, at least downplay his appalling mood by changing the subject. Which was a hell of a good start considering that he was… well, Vader.

"Have you got any findings to report?" he asked in a businesslike manner, gesturing to the sand-filled test-tube she was holding in her hand. She smothered a giggle at his poor attempt to deflect the topic.

"Yes. Don't go out during sand storms," she said, removing one of her boots and emptying it on the floor.

Vader laid his hands flat on the dashboard and visibly stiffened, struggling to contain his temper.

"If you have no further contribution to make, perhaps you could start working on…"

"Locating our scientist?' she cut him off. "Look, if I know the guy, he'll just be hanging out in some lousy bar. And there can't be too many of these around here. Besides, that thing you're doing is taking forever, so I'm basically just waiting for you to get ready."

He slipped his gloves back on and got up from his seat.

"You were saying?"

Aphra shook her head at his touchiness and headed for the door while he followed suit.

"Come on lighten up!" she exclaimed as they both stepped out of the ship. It was a lot to ask from the Sith Lord, especially when he was in one of his moods, but that didn't stop her from giving it a try. "It could be worse!" she continued. "Look at that landscape."

Although his breathing remained as even as always, Aphra could swear that last exhale was a sigh.

"I don't like sand."

This time it was her turn to sigh.

"Look, are you going to pout all day?"

Vader didn't answer. Not that it was a surprise.

"Fine. Be that way. Won't make me stop talking, you know."

"If I may interfere, Mistress, sand truly _is_ a plague. Look at those derelicts right there," he said pointing to an old cargo ship that was half-buried in one of the dunes. "Surely they'd be in much better condition had they not been exposed to such an environment. You see, sand does put a strain on…"

"Look, I see where this is going. I already said no. No oil bath before we get back home."

There was a resentful warble from Beetee and they walked in awkward silence until they reached the outpost and its dusty, sandy streets lined up with makeshift stalls and shoddy tents. The sparse, yet picturesque and busy crowd hurried across the streets, paying them much less attention than she had expected, busy as they were scurrying around and haggling for food or spare parts. But Aphra wasn't fooled by their apparent indifference. All had noticed Vader, and all were terrified. She could tell as much from the way they steered away from his path. From the stealthy, wary looks they cast him when they thought he wasn't looking. From the way children reached for their mothers' hands or hid behind their legs as he passed by them. They had been told, no doubt, of the emperor's boogeyman, of how he'd come for them if they didn't behave - adults and children alike. Or at least that was what she surmised. Her hunch was swiftly confirmed when she saw a young boy throw himself at Vader's feet and look up at him with tears in his eyes.

"Please mister big dark Lord…" the child started sobbing, "Please… I've been good. Please don't feed me to the emperor's nexus…Please don't…" Vader stood stiff and motionless, evidently taken aback by such a sudden outpouring, his head bowed towards the child who tugged at his cape, crying and begging as if his life were at stake. Vader probably knew of his reputation, but it still must have been a shock to see those rumors taken so literally. Especially that part about the nexus.

"The emperor is n…" he started almost hesitantly, when a woman came running his way and picked up the wailing child. She stared at him in terror a few seconds longer before she finally mustered the courage to speak.

"I'm… I'm truly sorry my Lord. It's just… just a silly story that we tell children… that they must behave or else you w…"

Aphra could nearly feel his gaze throwing daggers at the woman.

"Go. And watch your child," he spat before resuming his path.

"Oh, so now you're giving parenting advice?" Aphra asked with a tinge of irony as she caught up with him. "How's the whole 'making Luke your apprentice' going, by the way?"

"Don't," he said irritably.

"What? I'm just asking."

Vader remained silent and simply kept walking.

"Oh… so it _is_ as bad as I thought, uh?"

"Yes," he snapped. "It is."

He straightened his back and hastened the pace, which she was pretty sure was Vaderian for 'let me brood in peace', so she decided to leave it there for the time being.

They walked in silence a few more minutes before they came in sight of the cantina.

"There," Aphra said, gesturing to the door.

"If you will excuse us Mistress, Beetee and I would rather not mingle with all of this organic filth… unless you plan on slaying it, of course."

 _Of course._ This was Triple-Zero in a nutshell.

"No, we're good. Just wait here."

They left the two droids outside and got inside the bar. The smelly, drunken mob split open on their way, allowing them access to the counter. Aphra stood on tiptoe and hailed the bartender.

"Hi! Sorry to bother you, we're just looking for one of your regulars. Name's Jeeto Kang."

The barman turned to her and gave her an ear-to-ear smile.

"My, my, what have we got here…' came his coarse reply. "Why don't you take a seat? Drink's on the house."

The temperature suddenly dropped a few degrees. _Oh dear…_

"I gladly would but we're in a hurry. Can you help us?"

"Why of course… but for a price…" the man said, eying her up and while a lecherous grin cracked his face. Aphra was growing more uncomfortable with each passing second.

"How much?" she asked, hoping she had misunderstood his intentions.

"Oh, I'm not that much into credits, if you see what I mean…"

Aphra furrowed her brow in disdain.

"I think I'll pass."

The owner's face turned redder than Vader's saber.

"Get lost, you stuck up b…"

His sentence was cut short as he abruptly rose above the floor and brought his hands to his throat, prying at invisible hands.

"Choose your words carefully," Vader warned as the man gaped like a fish and stuck his tongue out in a desperate attempt to let some air in.

"Now," Vader continued, pulling him over the counter and brutally grabbing his neck. "Where is Jeeto Kang?" The patrons watched in horror as the barman wriggled and kicked to free himself, only to start turning blue.

"I will not ask you twice," Vader said threateningly. A raspy, choked out sound made it past the man's lips and Vader loosened his grip for him to speak.

"Jeeto… Jeeto's got a workshop right across the marketplace." He paused to let out a cough. "Only solid building around. Not sure where he gets the money but you can't miss it."

Vader dropped – or rather, threw – the man on the floor, looming over him as he cowered against the wall.

It was Aphra who broke the silence, noticing that Vader's hand was dangerously close to his lightsaber.

"Now, let's get out of this dive, shall we?"

"Gladly," Vader hissed, turning on his heel with a swish of his cape.


	3. Chapter 3

Vader's POV

"Why did you stop me?" Vader asked as they were crossing the marketplace.

Aphra looked at him with round eyes as if he'd told her he was a Hutt in disguise.

"Why? Because if you're going to kill everyone who's rude or tries to hit on me we're not out of the bush yet."

"Who knows? I'm efficient."

Aphra only shook her head and kept walking.

Vader arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. What was it now?

"I fail to see the cause of your disapproval," he stated cluelessly, eliciting a sigh from Aphra.

"Look," she said, stopping in front of a bulky durasteel door, "I didn't say something was wrong. You're just a little… over-the-top. But hey, I'm cool with that. You'd be boring if you weren't."

"I do not comprehend your meaning," he replied blankly.

Aphra stifled a giggle, and, to be entirely frank, Vader had no idea what she found so funny. Before he got a chance to ask, there was a click of the lock and the door slowly cracked open, while whoever was behind it remained carefully hidden in its shadow.

"Who goes there?" came the tenant's guarded, surly greeting. It was an unusual voice, musical and croaky at the same time, with a slight Toydarian accent that reminded him vaguely of Watto's timber. Which wasn't exactly his favorite sound to hear.

Aphra leaned forward towards the interstice.

"Hi, Jeeto… it's me, Aphra…"

A pudgy toydarian flew out of the opening and literally threw his arms around Aphra, nearly knocking her down with the impact. "Ha ha! Aphra my friend, it sure is good to see ya! Ah, I thought it was another one of those bounty hunters. Some of my customers are quick to lose patience… Now where is my money?"

"Heeyyyy, good to see you too…" she said with a suspiciously broad smile.

Jeeto Kang released her and flew a good meter back.

"You don't have my money, do you?"

"Well, I don't have it with me… But I've got a really cool project for you…"

"I knew it," the Toydarian started railing. "I just kriffing knew it. Humans are all the same. I should have listened to my poor mother. Stay away from humans, she said. Stay away from them. Lending them your money is like throwing it into a black hole…"

" Jeeto, listen. I _am_ going to pay you back. I was just busy collecting the money…"

"Ha! My wing!" he exclaimed hotly. "You think I don't get the news?"

"You… have the holonet here?"

"Don't try to duck the issue," he said shaking a finger. "No money, no help."

"Come on! You don't even know what I'm going to ask you!"

Jeeto turned his back on her and crossed his twiggy arms above his chest.

"That's a no. Besides what's in it for me, eh?"

"Your life," Vader announced coldly, causing a heavy silence to fall upon them both. After all, patience had never been one of his strong suits and this conversation was beginning to drag on.

Jeeto's arms fell to his sides and his jaw fell open as he glanced at Aphra, then at Vader and back at her, his eyes bulging a bit more with each turn of his head.

"Yeah, like he said," Aphra shrugged, pointing her chin at Vader.

"Aphra, you can't be serious… "the Toydarian said in shock, his wingbeats slowing down as if he were about to faint.

"Perhaps you wish to verify the truth of your assumption?" Vader asked caustically.

Jeeto visibly swallowed as he met Vader's hidden gaze.

"Well," he finally sighed, "I guess we have a bargain, then. If you will follow me…"

They stepped into the workshop, following his instruction to close the door behind them. The interior of the building was a complete eyesore, and had nothing to do with the pristine facilities Vader had grown accustomed to. _Hell, even Aphra's ship hadn't been that untidy_. Spare parts were scattered all over the place, either dripping with oil or rotting with rust, while droid carcasses of all shapes and sizes lay gathering dust on the bare, lumpy ground.

"Those poor droids…" Triple-Zero bemoaned, causing Beetee to chirp sneeringly. "Oh, have a bit of decency, you unfeeling rust-bucket! Those are not mindless organics."

"Ahem," Aphra cleared her throat. "It's not like we're standing right in the same room."

"My deepest apologies, Mistress. I will endeavor to keep the pretense that I view organics as our equals."

 _What a successful attempt…_ Vader thought with amusement.

"So… what are you working on?" Aphra asked with curiosity, glancing over Jeeto's workbench, which was covered with minuscule, spider-like droids.

"Ah… this is Jabba's newest order. High precision torture units," the Toydarian stated proudly. "Those babies reach straight for the nerve endings. Chew them in and out. No poison needed."

"How thrilling," Triple-Zero said with elation. "Masters, I've just been thinking…"

"NO," came their joint reply. They were _not_ picking up another droid, let alone a whole swarm of them. And that was final.

"Now," Jeeto continued, "I believe you wanted to talk business, eh?"

Aphra nodded.

" A certain acquaintance of us has found a way to clone himself and transfer his personality and memories into a new body after dying. We don't know what system he is using, but we have to destroy it and stop him from replicating"

"Hm… the simplest way to do that would be through chips implanted into his neural system and exchanging coded data with the main matrix. Though I wonder how he managed to do that without any brain damage…"

"Oh, don't worry, he's got plenty of that," Aphra said with a huff.

"Hm… anyway. This system requires a specific network for the data to load from the matrix into the droids, or, in this case, the chips."

"Some kind of encrypted holonet?"

"Exactly. The problem of those transmissions is that they are not easily detected from the outside, even during the transfer. Unless you have the proper equipment," he said proudly, gesturing to the wall of screens behind him.

"Can you do it?"

"Now, you're insulting me, Aphra. Of course I can do it. Just come back in the morning and I'll have a list of locations to investigate, eh?"

She gave him an ironic hand salute while he put on a pair of headsets and sat in front of the screens.

Aphra's POV

Their way back to the ship proved rather uneventful, as did the rest of the night and their return to the workshop. They would have suspected nothing, were it not for the tremendous amount of time it was taking for Jeeto to answer the door.

"Jeeto, are you okay?" Aphra called out through the door. No answer came.

"Hm… Hold on, I just need a few minutes to pick the lock and then we can…"

Before she could finish her sentence, the lock was completely melted and Vader pushed the door open.

"…Or you can do that," she said, following him inside. "Though I doubt he'll be glad to… Holy kriff! What's that smell?"

Aphra brought a hand to her mouth and nearly threw up from the fetid, pungent stench that assaulted her nostrils. She could hear insects buzzing from the other end of the room and gasped in horror as she noticed the presence of a thick, dark red liquid, soaking the chunky floor at the foot of Jeeto's working table. Trying to ignore her nausea, she headed towards the puddle of blood and looked behind the cluttered workbench, only to be faced with the sight she had expected to see: Jeeto wouldn't help them, because Jeeto was dead, lying face to the floor with a hole in his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

Vader's POV

Vader was barely fazed by the sight before him. Gruesome as it may be, he had seen much more death, and spilled much more blood. He had decided, over time, that the fates of individual strangers were of little importance to him. And until recently – and for the most of twenty years – this included every soul in the galaxy. It was easy to shut them out, hate them even, when all they saw in him was a ruthless killing machine, a weapon to cringe from when it was turned their way. They avoided his gaze, trembled at the sound of his breathing, fled the rooms he entered – but discreetly, in a way the believed he wouldn't notice – for how could such a creature do anything but harm them? Yes, he had deserved it. Yes, it had angered him. Yes, he had harnessed it, had fed on their fear, delving further into the dark side, like his master had told him to. But no, he couldn't stand it. And so he had become numb to their distress, for he had enough of his own, and for caring only threatened his last sliver of sanity.

All of this made Jeeto's death nothing more than a mild inconvenience. His main concern was, in fact, of practical nature. For if the toydarian was dead, who was to help them locate Cylo's facility? Vader glanced back at the body, wondering whether there was something left to work with, when he caught sight of a small metal object, lying inches away from the corpse's right hand. The device was in remarkably good condition, especially compared to the rest of Jeeto's equipment, which led him to believe that it might not have belonged to the unfortunate engineer. Maybe the killer had dropped it, or left it as some kind of signature? Whatever the item was, Vader's curiosity was piqued, and he used the Force to pick it up, not bothering to crouch on the gore-covered floor. He took a closer look at the gimmick: a holoprojector. He pressed the on-switch to see if there were any records. But it was Cylo's face that appeared above the disk.

"I thought it would be rude of me not to leave a note," the hologram said. "So, trying to locate my central memory bank, aren't we? I will save you the trouble. It's on Lehon. I would wish you good luck, but that would be complete hypocrisy on my part. Until next time, Lord Vader."

"Well, at least this gentleman has some manners," Triple-Zero remarked.

"Thank you for your input, Triple-Zero."

Aphra's POV

Aphra couldn't believe what she had just seen. What kind of twisted mind would kill the one who would lead them to him, only to reveal his location himself? This didn't add up. Unless…

"It's a trap," she concluded out loud.

"Of course, it is," Vader calmly answered, switching the record off. Aphra was stunned by his apparent lack of concern. Clearly, he was missing the point: whether he had followed them or simply had informants on Jakku, Cylo had figured out what they were up to, and was now merely waiting for them to jump into the rancor's pit.

"And? That's it?" she exclaimed with exasperation as she followed him out of the building.

"No, that's not 'it'," he replied curtly, hastening the pace towards the ship.

"Then what's our next move?"

"Spring the trap."

 _Excuse me?_ Vader had never really struck her as the happy-go-lucky type. Although now that she thought about it…

"You're crazy," she said, though she knew she was not much saner herself. "You know that? Cylo will be expecting us."

"Yes, he will be. As he has been since we left Coruscant. Revealing his location was only a way to speed things up. Which he would not have done if he were not confident in his ability to defeat me. "

"Which is why we must _not_ go there. This is the kind of situation that screams 'let's just go into hiding and lay low for awhile'. I'd be cool with that."

"I'm afraid I'm a bit conspicuous for that, and the longer we wait, the better prepared he will be. We cannot afford to linger."

"So you just want to barge into this madman's place, smash everything around and leave like nothing happened?"

"Yes."

"Okay, cool."

"Wasn't that your previous occupation?" Vader said with a hint of raillery.

 _Sort of. Only sort of._ There was much more than that to archaeology. But as far as she was concerned, that was the gist of what she usually did.

They finally reached the ship and Aphra gave the hyperdrive a quick check, making sure everything was ready for takeoff.

"All good," she announced, breezing in the cockpit as Vader entered their destination's coordinates. Vader started the engines and heavy clouds of dust appeared around the ship, dimming the sunlight and quickly dissipating as the ship soared over the dune sea. Aphra gazed out of the viewport and down at the sandy waves undulating beneath them, becoming smaller and smaller until they were nothing but a golden blur. They speedily got out of the atmosphere and made the jump into hyperspace. It would be a long trip. Not only because Lehon was far, far away at the edge of charted space, but also because Aphra, behind that confident and boastful exterior, was currently a bucket of worry. Granted, she did love danger, but running into Cylo's trap was bordering on suicide. _Come_ _on, it'll be fun_ , she mentally told herself. Aphra was always up for a good adrenaline rush, and had taken this kind of risk many, many times before. But this time, there was something more, something she couldn't quite pinpoint. It wasn't simply fear, at least nor for herself, but she had this illogical, gnawing dread that something bad was about happen. She started pacing wildly across the ship in an attempt to calm her nerves. Which was something she had never done before – ever – and which, naturally, didn't fail to catch Vader's attention.

"Something is troubling you," he stated as he rose from his seat and started heading her way. Yes, something was troubling her, and only now that she'd heard his voice did she realize what it was: she feared for him. Irrationally. Vader was a one-man army, and yet for some reason, her gut was telling her that he was in danger. But her mind was trying to distract her from it, and the fear was fading with every step he took, leaving room to that odd and familiar feeling, that overpowering urge that drew her steps towards him. She wanted him to know what she felt, here and now, without the filter of words to attenuate her meaning. And she knew what to do. She lowered her barriers, just enough to let him feel the nature of her thoughts. Although she wasn't Force-sensitive, she was beginning to master this. She closed her eyes and focused on him, welcoming the feeling of his mind brushing against hers. And she reveled in it. Like she had every time before, whether it was a fleeting, almost timid caress or a scorching, smoke-loaded gale that left her parched. She let her hands wander across his chest, waiting for him to draw her closer.

Vader's POV

He responded without words, letting his arms enclose her as he breathed in her essence, tasting the emotions that came wafting his way.

She shivered against him, sending and odd tingle through his glove-covered sensors as his fingers started tracing patterns on her flanks, moving up the curves of her back until he stopped on the hollow scar Karbin had left her with, so broad he could feel it through her flimsy clothing. Anger began to surface at the thought. Karbin. In a way, it was Cylo's doing. And he would pay for it, just as he would answer for conspiring against him. _But not now._ Now was simply the time to cherish the moment, to bathe in Aphra's warmth and let their souls mingle in blissful disregard of what was yet to come. Now was the calm before the storm.


	5. Chapter 5

Aphra's POV

Aphra stirred in her seat as the yacht finally came out of lightspeed. It had been a whole day since they were cooped up in the ship and she was even more restless than before. Sleep had eluded her for the most of the travel and she was still a bundle of nerves, powered up by a mix of excitement and concern. She lifted her eyes from the dashboard and set them on the blue planet in front of her. Lehon was well-known among archaeologists for being the starting point of the Infinite Empire, and the birthplace of various technologies, many of which still had to be dug up and explained. Had the circumstances been different, she would have jumped at the occasion. But, unfortunately, there was no time for that now.

They got off as soon as they had touched down, and Aphra couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of her surroundings as she set foot on the fine, rippled white sand that covered the beach they had landed on. It was but a small, secluded cove, nestled in a case of smooth granite rocks, rounded by time and by the waves that came crashing gently at her feet. The wind whistled lightly and rustled in palm tree leaves, carrying a bit of spray from the lagoon in front of her, while the rays of the sun danced on its shimmering, cerulean waters, so clear she could make out the schools of colorful fish that came in and out of the broken, coral-covered metal form that must have been an Old Republic wreck, the only reminder of the horrors this world had witnessed. Aphra turned to Vader, who hadn't piped a word since their landing.

"What now?" she asked.

"Cylo will have seen us landing. We must locate his facility before he can fully prepare for the attack."

"Masters, if I may interrupt," Triple-Zero said, "Beetee has been running scans of the island since we entered the atmosphere."

"And?" Aphra urged him to continue.

"And he's pleased to report that he has detected a fair amount of droids inside the stone structure at the center of the island."

"That's not exactly good news, now is it? But at least we know where to look."

"Excellent thinking, Mistress." Aphra rolled her eyes at the attempted flattery but let the droid continue.

"May I be so bold as to ask a favor of you, masters?"

"Go ahead," she answered.

"Should you both meet your demise during today's mission, may we be dispensed from returning to Coruscant and stay here instead? I am inclined to think that this Cylo would be an acceptable substitute for the both of you and I would rather not miss on the opportunity to…"

"No," Vader cut him off. "Now, let us waste no time."

They promptly left the beach and set out for the designated spot. Aphra made a sign for the droids to follow, not without overhearing Beetee's irritated warble.

"I know, Beetee, I know," Triple-Zero said jadedly. "But it was worth trying, wasn't it?"

They followed the narrow path that climbed from the beach to the inside of the island and delved into an overgrown palm grove, inadvertently scaring a few birds away. Aphra was too busy observing the brightly colored flocks to pay much attention to the oval, hollow stones littering the ground around her. She heard a crack and looked down at her feet, only to see her boot covered in sticky, translucent liquid. It was when it hit her that she had crushed an egg. A very big egg.

Vader's POV

 _Oh, this can't be good…_ Vader had seen such eggs on Tatooine, back when his mother and him still belonged to Gardulla and had to take care of the incubators next to her rancor pits. Once in a while Gardulla would throw a slave into the pits, and she would gather them to witness the 'encounter', while her guests took bets on how long the slave would survive, which usually wasn't very long. His mother would hold him and cover his eyes, but he would still hear the screams. And Anakin would have nightmares, the earliest he could remember. It had been a relief when Gardulla had lost them, for at least they stopped living in fear that they might be next. But if there were rancor eggs here, the wild presence he was sensing was more than likely to be their mother… As if to confirm this, a furious roar echoed from the thicket and the trees were violently shaken and pushed aside as the beast ran their way.

"Down!" he barked as an enormous claw shot out from behind a tree and nearly beheaded Aphra. Another savage roar rattled his eardrums as he threw his lightsaber just over her head, slicing the clawed appendage in two. The rancor rushed forward to him, barely weakened by the injury, and sent him crashing against a tree trunk, nearly breaking it – as well as Vader's back – in the process. He pulled himself to his feet as the beast came racing his way, hell-bent on tearing his innards out and hardly paying attention to Aphra's attacks.

"Can't you just kriffing die!" Aphra shouted as she fired frantically, inflicting shallow wounds on the rancor's thick skin.

Vader tried to Force-choke the beast, but its windpipe was so hard it was taking longer than expected. And if he was to make it in one piece – well, in a manner of speaking, of course – those few precious seconds were more than he could afford to waste. He decided upon a more direct approach and lunged forward, plunging his lightsaber into the monster's chest, and stepping aside just in time to watch it collapse with a loud thud.

"Holy kriff, I hate those beasts…" Aphra sighed as she glanced at the massive corpse.

"Me too, Aphra. Me too."

They resumed their way to the stone structure the droids had detected, fortunately avoiding any other encounter with the local fauna. Finally reaching the entrance of what appeared to be a temple, Vader pushed the heavy stone door open, noticing that Cylo hadn't bothered with any security systems.

"That's it?" Aphra exclaimed. "No trap? No shield? No lock? Something tells me our friend really wants us in there..."

She was correct: Cylo did want them in there. It was, after all, a trap, and he was certain the welcoming comity would not disappoint.

"Stay within my sight," he instructed as they moved forward, entering a dimly lit hallway.

Aphra's POV

As soon as they stepped past the second door, Aphra found herself thrown to the ground behind the corner of a wall, Vader's weight nearly crushing her as a salvo of red lasers ripped through the air inches away from them.

"Destroyers…" Vader said as they both got to their feet.

"Oh kriff…" she cursed under her breath as she heard them jangle forward. They both grabbed their weapons as the Droidekas unfolded and ignited their shields. Aphra and the droids started shooting, while Vader was all too busy deflecting the brunt of the gunfire to deal any lightsaber blows.

"Where did he even get those?" she heard him say.

"Er… I think I know," she said as she threw her knife at one of the droids, finally finding a way to break through their shields. Before Vader had hired her, she had been tasked with recovering blueprints and from an abandoned separatist factory, as well as prototypes of this very model. The client's identity had been kept secret, which was rather common in her professional background. But now she had a fairly good idea of who he was.

"Aphra, tell me you didn't…"

"I didn't know the contractor!" she exclaimed as Beetee blew up one of the Droidekas. "But you've got to admit I did a hell of a good job!"

"Yes, and I'd rather you hadn't!" he shouted, deflecting yet another shot.

"Alright, alright, I got this. You need to throw solid objects at them in order to get past the shields. Aim for the heat sensors. That's how they detect 'hostile organics'. And yes, your armor has heat-leaks."

Using the Force to extract Aphra's knife from the droid's armor, Vader complied and sent it right into the droids' sensors, blinding them one after the other until they could easily be taken out.

"Phew…" Aphra sighed. " That was a close one."

"Not nearly," Vader said.

"Right, keep bragging," she said before to Triple-Zero and Beetee. "Are you two picking up something?"

"Indeed, Mistress. Beetee says there is high electrical activity on the lowest level of the temple. If there is a data center here then this is the only place it could be."

"Alright boys," she said, "let's go."

The rest of their way was mostly unhindered, save for a few battle droids, which were easily taken care of. It was almost a disappointment in comparison to what they had expected.

When they finally reached the lowest level, they found themselves in a white, overly lit ward, surrounding a single surgical table. The walls were lined up with bacta tanks, some of which were empty while others contained bodies that all looked the same. Clones. Cylo's clones.

Aphra heard a snigger from behind her back and immediately turned around, but all she saw was another body floating in a bacta tank. There was another snicker and she spun around again, her eyes darting nervously to the other end of the room. It was only then that she saw him, coming out from behind a bacta tank: Cylo.

Author's note/edit : Hi everyone! Thanks for reading. Only two more chapters to go. I've just been going over the drafts of the next chapter and it occurred to me that some of you might find it a tiny bit graphic (clue : RotS stuff). Maybe not _excessively_ graphic but I'm still leaving a note just in case. Hugs to you all.


	6. Chapter 6

Vader's POV

Cylo stood conceitedly in front of him, dressed up to the nines in a heavy, ostentatious overcoat with gold linings, a crimson red jabot tied around his neck. He gave him a wry smile as he sashayed their way, his hands nonchalantly clasped behind his back, his round, gleaming black eye devoid of expression while the human one crinkled with malice and self-satisfaction. A wicked smile cracked his implant-covered face, revealing a sharp set of teeth.

"Ah, Lord Vader. Finally," the scientist falsely rejoiced. "I was expecting someone of your reputation to be a little… faster. You disappoint me, my friend…"

"Enough!" Vader snapped. He would not humor him by listening to his gloating. "Why the staging?"

"Not quite what you were looking for, is it?" Cylo said, gesturing to the room around him. "I just thought it might be nice to bring up some of our fond shared memories…"

The scientist waved a hand and a spherical droid appeared from behind the surgical table, floating towards Vader and eying him with its single eye. Vader froze on the spot as he noticed the multiple arms attached to the droid's spherical body, each of them carrying a set of blades and needles.

"Ah… I take it you remember TC-66?"

Oh yes, he remembered. Every single moment of that fateful day was branded in his flesh, in his mind and his soul. It had been two decades, and yet the memory had not faded a bit. There had been many droids involved in his 'reconstruction'. But _this_ particular droid was sadism itself.

The simple sight of it caused him to recoil slightly as memories flashed through his mind, more vivid than ever. The pain. The cries. The syringes plunging down to his bones and heart, pumping chemicals into his bloodstream just to keep him awake. The harsh metal claw holding him in place as he screamed and writhed in agony, drawing gushes of blood as it pinned him against the hard, almost cutting metal of the operating table. The blades scraping away whole sections of charred skin. The titanium screws sinking into his severed bones. The electrodes wired into his mangled limbs, digging into his raw muscles. And more pain. More cries. His and Padme's, ripping through the Force across light-years of void. Then silence on both sides. And that droid, staring at him with its single red eye, satisfied with its work, hovering above him and beeping – sneering – cruelly as if it knew the worst had not even started, as if it were waiting to see him on his knees, howling in despair at the loss he had yet to learn of. It had remained intact when he had tried to Force-crush the place, hoping it would collapse and kill him on the spot. But even death wouldn't take such an abomination. And so he had lived. Without her. But he had not forgotten.

Vader finally snapped back to reality and glanced back at the droid before him. Every inch of his being hated that droid with a passion. That creature was a mold for monsters to be cast from. It had a lust for blood, a fascination for pain. It had… Cylo's mind. Vader almost started at the realization: the _droid_ had _Cylo's_ mind. That was it! How could he not have thought of it sooner? Cylo's personality matrix was there, right in front of him, an arm's length away, and well within the reach of his lightsaber.

Aphra's POV

Aphra was about to grab her blaster and straight-out shoot that son of a hutt in the knees when Vader snapped out of his trance and finally broke the silence:

"You are mistaken, Cylo. I found _exactly_ what I was looking for." _Wait… did he?_

"Did you?" the scientist said mockingly. "Good for you. Too bad you won't be able to get it."

"Try me," Vader said threateningly, taking a step towards the droid as he ignited his lightsaber.

She had always assumed that action alone was enough to scare the life out of any reasonable human being, but, against all her expectations, Cylo simply burst out laughing.

"Oh, Vader… I didn't think your… ahem… intellectual abilities would allow you to figure it out. I admit I'm impressed."

Cylo had just called Darth Vader him a nitwit. To his face. It _that_ wasn't suicidal behavior then she didn't know what was.

"But even so," he continued, "it doesn't change a thing: you were never, nor will ever be, a threat to me. I know you. I built you. In a way, one could even say that I am your father."

 _Now, that was a bit of an overstatement, wasn't it?_ Despite the seriousness of the situation, Aphra couldn't hold back the jest on the tip of her tongue.

"That's… actually _his trope_ ," she remarked, pointing at Vader and earning a disdainful look from the scientist – and most likely a glare from Vader himself, despite his being used to her lighthearted teasing.

"Who's 'trope' it is makes no difference" he spat, pulling a small metal box out of his pocket. "Vader is the product of _my_ research, and – believe it or not – conscientiousness prevents me from unleashing my creations without some kind of… failsafe."

Cylo turned to Vader, lifting the metal box and positioning his thumb on its single red button.

"I have kept this device for over twenty years. You know, I have always wondered what I had truly created, the night we rebuilt you. A machine? A man? How long would you survive, if I took back what I gave you?" He let his words hang in the air for a brief moment, as if to stress the direness of Vader's condition, as if to make him feel that he lived through his grace. "Well," he nearly shrugged, "I guess we'll soon have an answer to that."

Without another word, Cylo pressed the button and Vader gave a single twitch, jerking his head back at the click of the switch.

Vader's POV

A sudden pang of pain coursed through his whole body. His vision turned blurry from the blinding light-flash as the red filters suddenly disappeared from his optics. He started panting frantically, failing to inflate his burnt lungs, struggling as if a vice had closed around his whole torso, while his heart desperately tried to pump more blood into his system, threatening to burst his chest which each deafening beat. His hard durasteel limbs became slacker than rags. His fingers came open and his saber switched off, rolling at his feet as it dropped to the ground. His legs gave away under his weigh and he fell on the floor like a piece of floppy fabric. His senses became numb, and the room started spinning around him, colors and shapes mixing until all he could see was a nebulous fog.

He focused on his rage and his humiliation, summoning his last bit of strength and calling on the dark side to rip the droid apart. He felt the metal shake, then crumple, then splinter, until all that was left was a sparse cloud of dust. Then his vision went dark, his grip on the Force slipped, and he felt his wrecked mind drift into oblivion.


	7. Chapter 7

Aphra's POV

Aphra watched in horror as Vader fell to the ground, his breathing shortening and becoming labored, gradually fading until the wheezing was gone. She hadn't even paid attention to the droid, she hadn't looked at it until she heard the blast.

"Congratulations on your success," Cylo said mockingly, hovering above the Sith Lord. "Years of work turned to dust. But I will rebuild it. And this time you won't be here to undermine my efforts…"

Aphra snapped out of her stupor and lunged at the man, knocking him to the ground with a strength she didn't know she possessed. A derisive, cruel cackle escaped Cylo's throat, covering her own frantic breathing as she struggled to hold him down, applying what little weight she had onto his wretched torso. She punched the side of his jaw, but only ended up injuring her own knuckles against Cylo's modified bone structure.

"Mistress Aphra," Triple-Zero said, as calmly as ever, "if you would please stop fidgeting, I can't get a proper hold on the target."

"Stop talking and give me a hand!" she ordered, reaching for the remote in Cylo's hand.

"Look at yourself, _Doctor_ _…_ " he almost spat "getting in the way of progress for this… prototype…"

"Give me the remote!" she yelled, yanking at the device while he firmly held onto it.

"With pleasure," he said, crumpling the metal box within his grip. Aphra's blood turned to ice as she realized what he had just done, which fate he had doomed Vader to.

Taking advantage of her moment of distraction, Cylo threw her aside, making a run for the door, before a laser bolt hit his leg and he let out a cry as he fell on the floor.

"I figured he could still be of use, Mistress."

Yes, she hoped so. She got back to her feet and headed towards Cylo, getting her blaster out of its holster.

"Reactivate the suit!" she barked, hoisting him up to her level.

"I can't," he said simply.

Cold rage filled her veins. She pressed her blaster against Cylo's temple.

Begging would be pointless. She wasn't feeling merciful. They both knew she wouldn't spare him, and he didn't bother keeping the pretense. He looked at her dead in the eye, with a cold, crooked smirk that said 'do it'. And so she did. A small, blinking object rolled out of his hand as she dropped Cylo's body and a shrill, piercing alarm tore through the air. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

A metallic voice rang out "Emergency protocol initiated. This facility will self-destruct in: ten minutes."

Aphra rushed to Vader's motionless form. They had to leave, and quick.

Vader's POV

Anakin lay limbless on the rugged ground of Mustafar, the fire barely doused from his seared flesh, covered in ashes and burnt rags. Everything hurt. From what was left of his skin to his devastated, soot-coated lungs, from his ruptured blood vessels to the ends of his stumps and every bone that was now broken due to the fall. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Living hurt.

He raised his hairless head, slowly and painfully, and looked at his surroundings through the mist that blurred his vision, assessing the height of the promontory on which Obi-Wan had stood _._ He dug into the gravel and attempted to drag himself away from the lava flow, further exhausting himself. He didn't have the strength to crawl up that hill.

And then he saw her: Padme, holding her round belly as she ran down the slope and knelt at his side. But he knew he was dreaming. He knew he was dying.

A bloodied tear rolled down his cheek as he remembered why he was there, what he had done to end up in this lava pit. And yet she had come.

He couldn't repress a groan as she laid a hand on his back, her soft, delicate hands feeling like daggers on his ravaged flesh, until they reached a spot that was entirely numb and he could no longer feel her touch.

"Anakin… Anakin, you must fight this. Our children still need you…"

Yes, he knew that. He didn't want to die. But what he wanted didn't matter. He was trapped and powerless, prisoner from Cylo's will. There was nothing to do. He had lost.

"It… is too late for me…" he all but coughed out, and those few words were enough to drain all air out of his lungs. It was pointless to fight.

But Padme – or rather his vision of Padme – wouldn't have it that way. He felt both her hands tug at his metal arm – most of the sensory circuits having, somehow, resisted the heat – and pull with all the strength she could muster. But Vader was heavy – as if he were already in the suit – and remained rooted on the spot.

The burning rocks shook beneath him and the planet gave off a low, powerful rumble. The lava began flowing faster, sending incandescent splashes high up in the fire-lit sky. A drop landed on his shoulder, drawing a hoarse, agonizing scream from his throat. But the pain wouldn't last. It would be over soon.

"Farewell, Padme…"

He closed his eyes and waited. The sounds became muffled and faded in the distance. Something caught him and shook him, and a fist landed on his chest in a half-hearted – almost hopeless – punch. Then the hand opened itself and clawed at him in despair.

"Don't you kriffing dare die on me!" Aphra's voice all but bellowed. And yet he had never heard it tremble like this. He had never heard the tears that were now filling her throat. This didn't sound like a hallucination. Nor did the shriek of the alarm that filled his ears.

Aphra's POV

Hot, stinging liquid trickled down from her sodden eyes, leaving salty trails on her cheeks and neck. _No. It couldn't be_ _._ This wasn't how the story went. She needed him. He couldn't leave her like this, he couldn't die in her arms when success was so close.

And then she heard it: a raspy, wheezing breath, coming from Vader's mask. He was alive.

 _Wake up_ she mentally implored, latching onto his hand.

"I… am not dead yet…" Vader rasped out.

In an almost instinctive impulse, she threw her arms around his neck, swallowing the tears that had started to flow.

"Thank the Force you're alive! We've got to get out of here!" she said as she slipped his right arm above her shoulder.

"You must… run," she heard him say.

"Not on your life, I'm not leaving you here!" she exclaimed, already sweating from the effort she was making just to hoist him up.

"Force you're heavy…" she breathed out when she finally managed to stand.

"Aphra… tell Luke and Leia…"

"Hell no!" she blurted out. She would not hear his dying wish, for she was _not_ letting him die here. "Whatever it is, you can tell them yourself, because I'm getting you the kriff out of here, you hear me! Come on boys, give me a hand," she said, gesturing for Triple-Zero to take place at Vader's left side. The droid complied but almost immediately started whining.

"Oh, Mistress, I wasn't designed for this type of task."

Aphra didn't bother answering, busy as she was trying not to collapse as she dragged Vader up the stairs.

The metallic voice rang out again as they reached the main level:

"This facility will self-destruct in: five minutes."

She tried to pick up the pace, but the weight of Vader's limp, semi-conscious body, was still slowing her down.

"This facility will self-destruct in: two minutes."

They had nearly reached the entrance hall, and Aphra could feel her whole body trembling from exhaustion. _Just a little bit more…_ she told herself as she caught sight of the door.

"This facility will self-destruct in: one minute."

Aphra was now stepping outside, but her worries were not over yet: not only did she have to put as much distance as possible between them and the temple, but she had to reach the ship – and the hyperbaric chamber – before Vader completely passed out – or even away. As soon as they entered the palm grove, she heard a blast and the sound of colliding stones as the whole temple collapsed behind them. She pushed Vader aside and literally ducked to the ground, avoiding the block of rubble that came hurtling their way. They remained there a few seconds, surrounded by a cloud of dust, until the noise of falling stone could no longer be heard. Then, she got back on her feet and proceeded to drag Vader again, still helped by Triple-Zero, granting herself no rest, while Beetee chirped and warbled, visibly satisfied by the destruction he had just witnessed.

After a good ten minutes of snaking between the trees, they reached the beach they had landed on and Aphra could finally hoist him inside the ship and lay him down in his chamber before closing it. How she had managed the exploit of carrying Vader all the way from the temple was beyond her understanding. But it didn't matter: they were alive and Cylo wasn't. Which meant they were safe for the time being.

"Alright. I'm going to get you moving again," she said, pressing a button on Vader's armrest.

"What do you mean?" he asked as the claw came down to remove his helmet.

"I'm going to rewire you. Hopefully we can bypass the restraining relays this scumbag has installed and then... We'll see. But first I have to get you out of your suit. And this time, I _do_ need the lights on."

Vader's eyes widened in apprehension, but he didn't protest, having no desire to remain in his current condtion.

Getting him out of the armor was just as much of a nightmare as she had expected. No wonder he was so heavy, rigged out in all that durasteel, obsidian and whatnot.

She took off the last piece and looked up at his face, only to see his eyelids close shut, as if he had been scared to look her in the eye. She knew he was uncomfortable, ashamed of how damaged he was. Still, she couldn't help but scrutinize his wounds – not out of shock so much as curiosity. His body, just like his face, was pale, hairless, crisscrossed with scars and marred with old burns, but, as she had perceived before, relatively lean and muscular. After a few seconds, he finally looked her way, and the shame in his eyes made her heart sink a bit. She squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture.

Vader's POV

It was but a tingle, a mockery of touch, the only lame, faltering signal that his restrained sensors would let crawl up his arm. It was a reminder of his weakness, of a dead man's power over him. Proof that a mere remote could cut him from the world on the whim of its wielder. It should infuriate him. And yet it was… oddly soothing. He closed his eyes again, wishing he could return the gesture, but his hand remained limp at his side. He had no choice but to let go, surrender himself to Aphra's deft and caring hands. And Vader had always been terrible at letting go.

Aphra gave him a rueful smile and opened the tiny tool-case she carried at her belt.

"I was going to say 'don't move' but it's not like… uh… sorry. I'm not… I didn't mean to…" A weak, almost inaudible laugh escaped his lips as she fumbled for words. Oh, he'd heard much worse than that, really. From the Moffs, from his master himself, questioning his personhood in barely veiled terms. But Aphra's awkward jokes did not carry any contempt. And as it turned out, he found her discomfort adorably amusing. Aphra raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips, putting on a severe face – or at least trying to, for if he was to be honest, she wasn't very good at this.

"I'm glad one of us actually finds it funny. Now, shall we?"

Aphra's POV

The repairs took hours. Hours during which he remained mostly silent – which wasn't a surprise when she thought about it.

"Tada!" she exclaimed proudly as she connected the last wire. "I think I'm due a little thank you," she continued, trailing her fingers down to his finally functional hands, feeling them shiver a bit under her featherlight touch.

"Yes, I suppose you are," he said, encircling her with his cold arms.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Aphra had leaned in to hear him better, for his voice – his real voice – was breathy, soft, if slightly hoarse, and barely louder than a whisper. He would rarely let her hear it, and she knew for a fact that he hated it, hated how weak it made him sound. She, on the contrary, was utterly fascinated by the sharp contrast between that wispy murmur and his usual rich bass. It was fitting, really, for Vader was nothing if not contrast made flesh. Power and weakness, fire and ice, rage and love all in one.

Vader's POV

She cupped his face and smiled at him, locking her gaze on his as he held her fragile form against his own massive one, finally able to feel her touch under his hands, and he realized that he actually felt _good_ _._ The way she looked at him, without fear or disgust, the way she grazed his skin, tenderly, longingly even… and that radiant, beaming aura told him that she felt good too. And before he knew it, his unease had left him, his fear of rejection had fled, and he pressed a warm kiss in the crook of her neck. She let out a contented sigh and inched closer to brush her lips against his, pulling him into an even closer embrace.

Aphra's POV

Aphra was exhausted, and yet she felt glorious. She could stay like this for hours. Crazy as it may be, it was where she felt home, in those arms that could crush her in one move, under those hands that had murdered hundreds. Perhaps she was insane – no, not perhaps – but she didn't care.

Tomorrow they would fly to Coruscant. Tomorrow they would fix what still had to be fixed. But what was left of today was theirs and theirs alone. She rested her head against his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat slowly lull her to sleep.

It didn't matter where they were going, as long as she fought by his side. They had a purpose, something that would outlive them. Crimes to atone for and a galaxy to fix. And as different as they were, they did have one thing in common: they both were good at fixing things.

Author's note: Alright readers, this is it (I guess). I feel obligated to apologize for the cheesiness. I know this was a little bit rushed and awkward, so I'll probably make a few minor edits later on. If you have any remarks that could help me improve this fic, I'll be happy to hear them (well, read them). Thanks for reading and big hugs to you all!

Mary


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